


Finding Peace

by this_much_green



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: DameRey, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jedi Rey, Poe Dameron Hurts So Prettily, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Post TLJ, Sleep Deprivation, The Resistance Era, finn and rey are cute friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-12 11:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13546266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_much_green/pseuds/this_much_green
Summary: Poe shot up from bed in a cold sweat, threw his hand toward the floor, snatching the gun he kept beside him to lift it at a white-masked, grinning intruder.Breathing hard, he searched the room, frenzied, and realized he was pointing his gun at no one.- - -After the battle of Craite, Poe's losing it a little bit. Rey intervenes to quietly help.





	1. Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> A little idea I just couldn't get out of my head! I am Poe/Rey trash and I admit it! :D
> 
> (BTW, I have a much longer Poe/Rey fic called "Flesh and Blood.")

\- - - - - 

_Poe._

_Poe._

_Poe._

A distant voice called for him, growing louder. Closer. And then it yelled.

_COMMANDER!_

Poe jerked awake.

Sitting upright with a start, he gasped, chest panting hard. Sweat soaked cleanly through his shirt. He found himself staring directly at Rey -- the Jedi girl -- who was eyeing him with much more concern than he cared for, holding his shoulders steady in her hands.

"Are you alright?" she demanded, and Poe realized too late that he was gripping her forearms.

"Wh -- yes. I'm fine," he breathed. Uncoiling his fingers from her wrists, he averted his eyes as he rose to his feet. "Bad dream."

"Oh." Softly, she said, "I hate those."

She spoke politely, but her eyes narrowed, discerning, on his face.

Offering a thin, apologetic smile, he let her go, sliding himself away from his makeshift bed as he attempted casually to look for a fresh shirt off the dirt floor of his tent.

The Resistance -- what was left of it now -- had made temporary base camp on a quiet woodsy moon. The Falcon had landed four days prior deep within a forest clearing.

In those four days, Poe had slept (frenzied, he'd began to keep track, writing down the numbers in the inside of his palm), perhaps ten hours in total.

" -- General Organa called for you," Rey was saying from the entryway of the tent. Her lips were moving but Poe had to blink his eyes rapidly at her to discern her words. "She's waiting for you at the campfire."

Swallowing hard, Poe managed a nod, then grabbed for a wrinkled long sleeved shirt on the ground, tossing it up into his hands before bringing it below his nose to smell.

Tossing his wet shirt aside, he realized that Rey was still in the doorway.

"I'll be there in a second," he said pointedly, and Rey lingered, scrutinizing his face in something like suspicion before drifting out the door.

\- - - - - 


	2. Shame

**Shame**

\- - - - - - 

The Resistance camp lay quiet. The bonfire crackled warmly, spitting sparks toward the dark night sky. General Organa was occupied inside the Millenium Falcon, reading incoming messages. A few armed officers patrolled the perimeter.

Inside one of the more cramped tents, the mood was merry -- a welcome reprieve.

"Okay," said Finn, squinting at the cards in his hands before laying them down in the center of the table, with a bit of a flourish. "Three of a kind."

Looking innocent, Rey placed hers down too.

"Royal flush."

 _"What!"_ Finn yelped shrilly, and the room exploded with laughter. "You know using the Force is cheating, right? Are you in my head? Are you in my head right now?"

"I don't remember that being part of the rules." Rey grinned impishly, and it was then the tent's cloth door swept open.

Poe appeared, ducking inside to grab a crate of rusty tools from the ground. A streak of ship's oil touched his forehead, his expression dark.

"Really? Poker?" he demanded, scanning their faces in disgust. "You know we have jobs to do, right?"

Everyone was startled, but it was Finn who spoke first.

"Just taking a load off, mate. Why don't you join us?"

"I'm a little busy keeping the First Order from tracking us."

"You used to be fun," groaned Arlo, a younger man, one of Poe's pilots. "What happened?"

Poe leveled him a cold, long look.

"Crait happened," he snapped, ducking out the tent's door, back into the night.

A stunned silence descended over the room.

"The hell's his problem?" Arlo grunted.

"I don't think he's slept much," Rey muttered, her eyes resting on the door where he'd fled. Although she gave away nothing in her expression, the truth was Rey felt a powerful surge from the Force when he entered.

Anger, burning off him. Like a low, simmering fire. 

Exhaustion. His body weighted. Begging him to lie down.

And most of all, the shame. When he entered and departed, shame came with him -- it flooded the room, filling the air like thick black smoke.

" -- _no one's_ slept much," another officer was saying, smirking unpleasantly as she shuffled the cards. "Guess he hasn't noticed that we're all taking late shifts? Yesterday I patrolled from midnight until dawn."

"I don't think he's sleeping at _all_ ," Rey answered, but the conversation turned back to the game. Someone found a crate of beer, bottles were cracked open, cards dealt.

Sitting there, Rey felt her thoughts tangle around Poe, knotting tighter and tighter.

Discreetly, she excused herself from the game, and slid from the tent to find him.

\- - - - - - 


	3. Confrontation

**Confrontation**

\- - - - - 

Rey weaved through the darkened camp, eyes alert. Some tents were sleepily quiet, some noisy with conversation, and one in particular emitted the kind of illicit sounds that made her eyes widen as she quickly jogged away.

She slowed to a walk, pushing aside tall blades of grass.

Poe came into view. Pliers in hand, he worked beneath a small broken runner, a rusted ship they'd salvaged the day before.

BB-8 sat obediently near his knees, casting a helpful pool of light. Although Rey meant to approach quietly, the droid swiveled around, whirring in profound excitement.

Drenched in sudden darkness, Poe shot the droid a look.

"BB-8, get back here. You're my flashlight."

Noticing Rey, he came to a pause.

Then he nodded once, unfriendly, before returning to work.

Rey's eyes traveled along the cables spilling from the ship, and she asked, "Need any help?"

"Aren't you in the middle of a poker game?"

"I cleaned everyone out already."

It was only half a lie.

Raising an eyebrow doubtfully, Poe nonetheless kicked the crate of tools toward her, an invitation.

Snatching a pair of wire-cutters, Rey joined him beneath the ship. She gnawed her bottom lip, and one scan of the wiring told her --

"Tank ring is all busted."

Voice muffled, as his head was stuck inside the mess of cables, Poe grunted in acknowledgment -- in agreement or disagreement, she wasn't sure.

"You should override the common feed to hot-wire this thing. Just connect right to the engine." Then she added, "Poe, I know that you haven't slept."

Poe came back into view, eyeing Rey in amusement or annoyance -- she couldn't be sure.

"Oh, you do?"

"Yes," she said simply. Her voice was cool, even. "Have you ever tried meditation?"

"Do I look like someone who's tried meditation?"

 _Set him up for that one,_ Rey thought. But she brushed it aside.

"I learned a tactic from Skywalker to bring yourself into a deep restorative sleep. I can show you."

"Think I'll pass."

"It's obvious you're suffering after Crait."

"You," said Poe laughingly, although his eyes were dark, "don't know the half of it -- "

It was then BB-8 rolled nervously between their legs, beeping wildly as the droid nudged Poe's knees backwards, attempting to put space between them.

Stepping backwards, Rey rolled her eyes.

"Let me know when you change your mind," she muttered knowingly over her shoulder, dropping the cutters back into the crate with a _clang_.

\- - - - - 


	4. Orders

**Orders**

\- - - - - 

"Status report," said General Organa to her small, attentive audience the following night. She circled around the crackling bonfire, reviewing a tablet screen in her hand.

"First shift of night patrol began at sundown," replied one of the officers smoothly. "Finn's leading it. And the scouting team returned an hour ago. They spotted another salvage yard, about five miles from here."

"We'll send a retrieval team then. We may as well build supplies while we can. Commander, get your people together -- only a few, we can't afford to separate -- "

General Organa turned, her eyes seeking Poe. When she found him, she found the sight remarkably unpleasant: she drew her eyebrows together sharply, mouth dropping open.

"You look terrible," she said bluntly.

"Er. Thank you."

A few people exchanged knowing glances. Poe could feel their amusement growing as General Organa dropped her eyeglasses onto the bridge of her nose smartly so she could better examine his face in the firelight. He'd glimpsed his reflection in the hull of the Falcon that morning, and it was true he looked like shit -- clothes rumpled, his hair a dark messy jungle, but no one at the camp was exactly at their freshest.

Poe averted his eyes and scratched his shadowed jaw, somewhat sheepishly. Six-day-old stubble scratched back. 

"General," he muttered, "if you could stop looking at me like that -- "

"Get out of here, Poe," said the older woman suddenly, snapping her glasses back off her face and turning her back on him. "You're off the job until you get some rest."

Poe laughed, once.

"You just told me to get a team tog -- "

"The salvage yard isn't going anywhere. And neither are you, until you sleep. Any new intermissions?" she added politely her communications officer, as Poe sputtered, "We _need_ to retrieve supplies -- "

" _You_ need to leave," said the General, and this time, her gaze was icy. Poe knew that look. It made him want to back up several feet, although he stood his ground in this moment.

"That's an order, commander," she finished gruffly.

Exhaling in disgust, Poe turned to depart, thinking that perhaps he really did need Rey's help after all.

\- - - - - 


	5. Reaching

**Reaching**

\- - - - -

Dawn broke.

Cool mint sunlight broke through the trees, making fog burn off the tall grass. Poe would have found the morning pleasant, pretty even, if he didn't feel drunk with exhaustion.

After General Organa had properly told him off (with an audience, no less), Poe had thrown open the entry to his tent, tossed his jacket on the floor, and dropped himself into the makeshift bed. To block out the sounds of the camp, he threw his arms around his head.

Feeble sleep fell over him, thin and breakable, like beach glass.

The worst of it came in the dead of the night.

Twitching through a nightmare, Poe shot up from bed in a cold sweat, threw his hand toward the floor, snatching the gun he kept beside him to lift it at a white-masked, grinning intruder.

Breathing hard, he searched the room, frenzied, and realized he was pointing his gun at no one.

Voices met his ears on the other side of the tent -- the night patrol, chatting quietly -- and he let the gun drop between his knees. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, wondering what he could have done if he'd actually squeezed the trigger.

Dawn broke. 

He hoped it would be merciful.

Circling the camp, he forced one leg forward, then the other, his eyes tiredly searching faces. Some officers nodded hello's ("morning, Commander"), but he pressed on, distracted.

Rey was so cat-like and quiet that he nearly passed her. The young woman sat cross-legged on the Falcon's open ramp, sharpening her staff.

She saw him coming.

Pausing with knife in hand, she raised her eyes, fixing him with a stare almost in warning, like a territorial animal.

Although he generally knew better to interrupt a woman wearing an expression like _that_ , especially while she held weaponry, he made his slow approach.

"Hi."

His greeting came out in a growl. He was beginning to lose his voice.

Rey inhaled unpleasantly.

"Can I help you?"

Mildly, he reminded, "Well, you told me you could."

She went back to her work, flicking him a look of disdain.

"I hope you're not going anywhere near a ship today," she muttered darkly. "You look awful."

"So I keep hearing. And no. No, I'm not planning to pilot anytime soon." He laughed then, a dark chuckle.

The figure of Rey glossed over as his vision went blurry. He had to blink, hard.

"Does your offer still stand?"

Rey raised her gaze again.

"Because I, ah. I think I may be losing my mind." He wanted to laugh again, or at least grin, but it he couldn't summon either. Swaying slightly, knees bent, he held a beam on the Falcon for support.

Her brown eyes shifted over his face. A line appeared in her forehead as she seemed to consider his question. Something may have softened in her face -- he couldn't be sure -- but then she pushed herself to her feet.

"Follow me."

\- - - - -


	6. Reprieve

**Reprieve**

\- - - - -

Rey led him away from camp.

Parting the tall grass with her staff, she walked deeper into the woods, disappearing and re-appearing through patches of sunlight ahead of him.

At last, she came to a halt in the heart of a small clearing, the grass around them bathed in morning light. Sounds from camp had disappeared. All was quiet. He would have called the scene peaceful, were his head not roaring with a headache.

"You come here a lot?" he wondered.

"Sometimes I do. Sit down."

A little clumsily, and feeling stupider by the second, he lowered himself to sit cross-legged in the cool grass. He was relieved she did the same, carefully setting her staff aside.

Their knees touched.

"Now what?"

She held out her palms. "Give me your hands."

"Hang on." Poe kept his hands on his knees. "What is this? Because I've had the misfortune of meeting Kylo Ren before -- "

A shadow fell over her face, a rain cloud on a sunny day. Her fists closed.

"I'm not going to get invade your head." Her voice was low, anger in the back of her throat. "I'm not him."

Poe met her eyes, his mouth a firm line. He studied her, uncertain but curious.

"I don't need to anyway," she went on matter-of-factly. "You're broadcasting so loud I can hear you a mile away."

"Subtlety was never my strong suit," he sighed agreeably.

He dropped his hands into hers, his calloused palms meeting her cool touch.

Rey said, "Close your eyes. I'm going to slow your heart."

"That sounds, uh." A dark grin broke over his scruffy face. "Concerning."

To his surprise, she bit back a grin, too. "Just close your eyes."

"Don't kill me."

"No promises."

She closed her eyes first, eyelashes downcast. He drank in her expression -- the edges of her mouth tilted downward in a concentrated frown, the dozen freckles sprinkling the bridge of her nose -- before shutting his eyes, slowly, moments later.

Her thumbs closed over his fingers, securing him. Briefly he wondered what would happen if someone from his squad walked in on this scene -- he'd never hear the end of it.

Luckily, all was quiet. No one interrupted. In fact, he'd never heard _less_ sound before -- it was as if he'd been plunged into darkness, the vacuum of black space. His heart thudded away inside his chest, before it began to even out --

\- - - - -

Exhaling sharply, Poe cracked open his eyes. He was sprawled on his back, tangled in blankets. Overhead, life came back into view, like he was coming up from under water.

Sitting up slowly, he had to blink twice to dissolve the fog from his eyes. The room came into focus around him. He was no longer at the clearing; he wasn't even inside his own tent.

His eyes searched the setting, and he found he was in a narrow, rumpled bed, sheets tangled around his knees. Crowded shelves lined the walls. His flight jacket hung on the wall. His gun beside it.

Voices passed by, footsteps in the hallway. Life had continued even as he'd slept, and the clock on the wall told him he'd been asleep for (he stared, astonished) over twelve hours.

His headache had cleared. He felt wiped clean. He inhaled a deep breath, his first in days, as he put his feet to the floor.

He had no idea how he'd gotten here, but he was inside the Millenium Falcon, and he realized that Rey had let him sleep in her own bed.

\- - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the nice words. One or two chapters left I think :D


	7. Healing

**Healing**

\- - - - - - - 

Tugging his flight jacket on over his shoulders, Poe staggered down the ramp of the Millenium Falcon. Night had fallen around the camp, like a black cloak covering the grounds.

Poe searched the area, urgent, confused. Now that he had energy -- too much of it -- guilt and adrenaline flooded his system. What had he missed?

To his right, a few officers huddled together repairing the salvaged ship, passing tools back and forth. BB-8 supervised with the flashlight.

To his left, other officers were sparring, throwing practice punches, followed with grunts of pain or laughter.

In the distance Finn practiced with Rey's saber by myself. Sizzling electric blue light flashed on and off in the darkness.

All was well. Peaceful, even.

Apparently, disappearing for twelve hours did not cost him any bodies. There was no further blood on his hands. Not tonight.

He barely believed it.

"There you are," interrupted the young pilot Arlo, chewing a nutrient bar as he passed. Through a thick mouthful, he grunted, "I couldn't find you. I thought you were dead."

"Your concern is really moving. Have you seen Rey anywhere?"

"The Jedi Girl?"

Passingly annoyed, Poe shot him a look. "You know her name."

"She's by the fire."

The bonfire's warmth spread over him as he approached.

Half-hidden in shadow, Rey sat alone against a low moss-covered log, squinting at a ancient-looking book open against her knees. (Where the hell had she gotten that? But he had more pressing concerns.)

Spotting him, Rey rose to her feet, setting the book aside.

"Hey," she exhaled. "How are you feeling?"

"How the hell did you get me to sleep so quickly? I don't remember any of -- just, what happened?"

"Just as I told you. I slowed down your heart to bring you into deep sleep. A restful sleep." She paused, and then smirked a little at the clumsy memory as she admitted, "And, yes, then I decided not to leave you in the clearing. I dragged you back to the Falcon."

"And to your bed." Poe wasn't sure if he should have been flattered or alarmed, and he shifted his eyes over her face, deeply intrigued.

"I had to put you _somewhere_ where you'd stay asleep. Haven't you noticed everyone at camp needs you for something? Always interrupting."

A laugh rumbled out of his lungs. "So you hid my body. Like a corpse."

She laughed, too. "Essentially."

They traded grins, like they were exchanging a secret.

"Thank you," he said finally. "Thank you for the help."

She brought her lips together carefully and nodded once -- professional, distant. She was about to go back to being herself, just as he was about to do the same.

But when she turned back to sit, Poe touched her hand.

"Listen." Two fingers held her wrist. "Our scouts found a salvage yard. General wants to put a team together to raid it for supplies." Gently, he unwound them. "Can I count you in?"

\- - - - - - - -


End file.
